


Four in Some Velvet Morning

by bxrnesrogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bucky Sleeps With A Lot Of Guys, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hate Sex, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rich Bucky, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, rich Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxrnesrogers/pseuds/bxrnesrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had his whole life planned out for him. School, Football, Marriage, the American Dream. That plan definitely did not include family friend and sworn enemy-since-childhood Bucky Barnes: so why did he keep ending up in his bed?</p><p>Or, a fic where Bucky sleeps with a lot of guys and Steve is "straight." Steve thinks Bucky is a spoiled, sex addicted brat and Bucky thinks Steve is a homophobic goody-two-shoes asshole. They say they cant stand eachother, but it gets a lot more complicated than that. Also, hate sex!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four in Some Velvet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy!  
> This is my first try at fanfiction, so please leave any kind criticism or general comments! I'll try to post once a week :)  
> I'll add more tags as I go, but keep in mind that this fic is EXPLICIT and Bucky is 16 in this fic while Steve is 17, making them both underage.

Steve Rogers has hated Bucky Barnes ever since they first met when Steve was in the seventh grade and Bucky was in the sixth. Both of their fathers worked at a huge corporation--something related to biochemistry, though Steve was never interested enough in the business to truly figure out what it was that they did. Joseph and George hit it off and before he knew it, Steve was being ushered into the Barnes’ home and expected to immediately befriend their son. It was only logical, according to their parents, that Steve and Bucky would get along just as well as their fathers. They could not have been more wrong.

As soon as Steve laid his eyes on Bucky, he knew there was no chance for them at a friendship. The younger boy reeked of arrogance, his nose turned up as his piercing eyes dug into Steve’s core, leaving nothing to the imagination when it came to his feelings towards the blond boy. He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back in a pompous quiff; Steve felt ridiculous standing next to him in his jeans and T-shirt--not because he thought he looked out of place, but because he thought Bucky looked like the very image of pretentiousness. Still, however, he stuck his hand out and forced a smile; Sara Rogers raised him too well for him to be passive towards a stranger.

“Steve,” he said, trying not to let his premonitions of the other boy effect his tone.

Bucky looked at the hand as if it personally offended him, and it was only when his father gave him a subtle look that he rolled his eyes and grabbed Steve’s hand in return.

“Bucky,” he spat. The contact was gone after one firm shake, his arm returning to his chest as he crossed one on top of the other. His mother, Winifred, was the complete opposite of her son, smiling warmly at her guests.

“Sara, Joseph, why don’t we step into the kitchen and give the boys some time to become acquainted?” Although she posed it as a question, there was no denying the firmness of her voice. As a mother, she was constantly worried about Bucky, who seemed to only have girl friends. She questioned many times whether or not her son was gay, and she hoped that the presence of another boy might steer Bucky away from the path he seemed to be headed towards. She wasn’t homophobic, but she wanted her darling to have an easy life, one that would never subject him to a world of hatred or discrimination; at this point, she was desperate for Steve and Bucky to form a brotherly bond.

As the adults allowed their children some space, Steve rocked on his heels with his hands stuck in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say. Reaching for anything that they might have in common, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“So...do you like art?” Steve began. “My mom got me this awesome drawing pad for my birthday and I’ve discovered that it’s really kinda-”

“No.” Bucky’s tone was both bored and judgmental at the same time, leaving Steve a bit shocked at how rude he was. He was raised by a woman who preached kindness and manners; to see a boy who was so full of himself and unconcerned with the feelings of those around him not only baffled Steve on its own, but also made him wonder how someone like Bucky could come from such lovely parents. Still, he persevered.

“Do you like football?” Somehow, he knew that Bucky’s answer would be no, so he continued on without pause. “My father and I watch it every Sunday together. It’s kind of a tradition. When I go to High School, I’m going to try out for the team. You’re looking at this school’s future quarterback!” Steve said this with a smile, and he looked towards the kitchen as if he expected his dad to have some telepathic ability to know when his son was talking about their favorite father-son bonding topic.

His dad always encouraged his love for football, saying how “real men liked sports,” and Steve’s interest in the game was going to make him “popular with the ladies.” Steve didn’t really care much about being popular with girls, but it was nice to have something to connect to with his father. Joseph was extremely busy, and it sometimes felt like Steve never really had a chance to talk to him. Football Sunday, however, was concrete. If there was a game on, you could bet that Steve and his dad were sitting on the couch watching the game and discussing their favorite plays and positions.

Bucky, contrasting Steve’s joyful grin, snorted and gave Steve a patronizing glare. “ _You’re_ going to be the quarterback?” He blatantly looked Steve’s lanky, prepubescent body up and down, disapproving with seemingly every muscle in his face that he could use. “Yeah,” he laughed, “and I’m a superhero.”

That did it for Steve.

“I’m so _sorry_ that I’m actually interested in something other than how my hair looks or how many different ways I can make my face look as bitter as my personality,” Steve snapped at the boy.

His body was always a sensitive subject, and it was when Bucky made that comment that he knew he hated him. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but what Bucky said really hurt him; he doubted his capability and felt limited by the skin and bones that God gave him. Surrounded by a supporting and loving family who always told Steve that his body didn’t define him, this was the first truly hurtful comment that Steve received in regards to his physical appearance.

Bucky similarly seemed hurt by Steve’s comment, as well as surprised at Steve’s sudden change in demeanor. However, he repressed any sadness and instead shot back more insults, his go-to defense mechanism. He went for whatever he could: Steve’s clothes, Steve’s body, Steve’s face. Anything that would make Steve cross his arms that much tighter around himself.

It was no surprise that this situation ended with Bucky getting punched straight in the nose, the small boy crying out while red irony liquid ran down his face. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Bucky called for his mom as Steve cradled his fist to his body and glared at him through a blurry lens, refusing to let himself cry over some dumb kid’s worthless opinion.

Winifred rushed into the room and took a look at her son.

“Oh, Bucky, baby.” She ran over to him and crouched down so she was eye level with the bleeding child. She wiped at her son’s tears as the rest of the adults trailed into the room, wanting to see what all the commotion was about. “What happened?” she asked.

“He hit me!” he wailed at his mother, jutting his finger out at Steve. Steve jutted his chin up at him with a smug smile.

Sara went over to Steve and knelt in front of the small boy, “Steven Grant Rogers,” she said lowly, “we are going to have a long talk about this when we get home. This is unacceptable behavior.”

“But mom, he was-”

“I know you’re not about to talk back to your mother,” Joseph said with a warning tone. He grabbed his son’s hand and forced him to his feet, walking the both of them towards George, Winifred and Bucky. “Take Steve back to the car, I’ll be out in a moment.”

Sara nodded as she briskly lead Steve out the front door; when Steve heard his father apologizing to the Barnes’ in the background, accompanied by Bucky’s small whimpers, he almost felt sorry.

That feeling was gone in an instant when he reminded himself of how terrible Bucky had been to him, and ever since, he’s looked back on that day with a sense of pride.

Steve and Bucky’s parents continued their strong friendship, planning frequent visits at either of their homes and blindly hoping that one day the boys would get along. Still, years later, the only time they’d been civil to eachother was when Steve made Quarterback in his sophomore year of High School. Throughout the eighth and ninth grade he suddenly hit the biggest growth spurt of his life. With no warning, Steve was catching people’s attention, and he was finally able to play his favorite sport without needing to take breaks every fifteen minutes. When his family, as well as a few others including Bucky’s, got together to celebrate, Bucky approached him, looking like he was uncomfortable.

“Um.” He looked back at his mother, who gave him an award winning smile of encouragement. He turned back to Steve and painfully said, “congratulations? I guess I was wrong about you not being able to make it.”

Steve felt repulsed and disturbed by this out of character behavior, and the only word he could muster up was, “Okay.”

Bucky broke a new record by rolling his eyes four different times before turning away from Steve, muttering under his breathe about “fucking _typical,_ asshole,” as he returned to his fling-of-the-week’s side.

That was another thing. Not only did Steve hate Bucky for his nasty attitude, but he stringed along guys like it was nothing. As soon as Bucky came out to the world when he was 15, it seemed that he jumped right into the exploration part of his gay-crisis, much at the expense of the boys he dated who, somehow, always seemed to be much more invested in the relationship than their significant other.

Steve was disgusted with Bucky, not because of who he was dating, but because of how little respect he seemed to have for himself and the people he was with, using them for at most a few weeks before breaking it off. It seemed like Bucky knew this, and he purposefully initiated all forms of PDA other than actual sex whenever he was in front of Steve.

Steve hated Bucky the most, though, because of how those actions made him feel. Each time Bucky made out with a guy in front of him, Steve couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a glance. He’d feel a tug in his chest as he tried to look away, entranced in Bucky’s private smile or his hands that wandered. He hated him, and he hated himself. He was not gay, and when he went home with an unexplainable hardness in his pants, he had to remind himself of this fact. Later that night as he pulled at his cock, mouth wide open and lips bitten, his mind had kept drifting away from images of beautiful girls to images of gorgeous blue eyes and short brown hair, all part of a slim, but definitely _male_ body. He was not gay. And when he came into his fist, a charming giggle from cherry red lips ringing in his ears though he tried his hardest to picture a feminine body underneath his, he reminded himself again. He _was not gay_. He couldn’t be.

Bucky’s coming out was the only time where Joseph and George ever had an issue. Joseph, a religious conservative man, was obviously uncomfortable with the close association he had with the Barnes family after Bucky’s announcement. They fought, talked it out, and Joseph apologized for the disrespect towards George’s family. He has not commented on Bucky’s sexuality since, though Steve can see his masked distaste whenever Bucky brings along one of his boyfriends to a family get-together.

One day, as they were driving home, Steve asked his dad why he pretended he was comfortable with Bucky being gay.

“Well,” Joseph said. “He’s not my son, Steve. I have no control over him. The only teenager I need to think about is you, and with Peggy around I don’t think I need to worry about your sexuality.” He chuckled, and Steve pursed his lips together as the conversation ended. He felt a stinging at the back of his eyes, though he wasn’t sure why. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t want to face what was going on.

Two years later, Steve is a senior and Bucky is a junior. Their mutual hatred for one another still prevails, as well as the feeling that Steve suppresses every time Bucky bites his lip or does anything within his general vicinity. It only makes him grow more frustrated and standoffish towards Bucky, though he can’t find it in himself to feel any remorse. Bucky initiates arguments just as much as Steve, and they’ve proven to their parents that their issues are deeper than just some childish feud.

It doesn’t help that Steve actually shares some elective classes this year with him, and he’s forced to witness Bucky’s insufferable behavior for 2 periods a day. Bucky’s always the one to challenge the teacher or flirt with whomever is sitting near him when he’s meant to be doing work. He’s the class clown, the rebel, and the tease all wrapped in one package. And what makes it worse is that, despite all of that, Bucky still gets good grades that Steve has to hear Winifred and George brag about for a good ten minutes every time he goes over to their house. Steve actually has to work hard for his grades, and the fact that Bucky just effortlessly gets them with no thought makes him irrationally hate the boy even more.

Bucky’s strange in terms of his social standing. Everyone knows him and many like him, but he only hangs out with one person. Natasha Romanoff has been Bucky’s best friend since childhood, and Steve has met her a few time when they were simultaneously over at Bucky’s house for one thing or another. He actually quite likes her, despite her intimidating demeanor, and he’s unsure of why she hangs out with someone like Bucky. Other than her, Bucky’s a bit of a stranger to those around him. Lots of guys have stories about dating him or hooking up with him, but none of them really _know_ him. Steve once heard some guy in the locker room talking about how he hooked up with Bucky at a party, and the way he talked about him made Steve’s blood boil. It wasn’t because he liked Barnes, but he finds the pure objectification and sexualization of the kid disrespectful and upsetting, and Bucky does nothing to stop it. If anything, his continuous promiscuity seems to promote his infamy.

Steve, on the other hand, is extremely popular. Once he hit his growth spurt and joined the football team, he gained a whole new group of friends. Some people try to use him for status, but he has his own crew and they’re all good, decent people who don’t let the number of likes they get on Instagram inflate their ego. Except for Tony, but his ego was already inflated before he became popular. Despite this, Steve still doesn’t have a girlfriend. He dated Peggy for a while, but they both realized that, though they loved eachother, it wasn’t in a romantic way. Other than that, he’s had nothing more than a few casual hookups. For some reason, no one seems to really interest him.

Steve puts these trivial thoughts out of his mind, getting ready for his day at school slowly and groggily. He’s exhausted from the four hours of sleep he got the night before thanks to the long hours he spent studying for his AP Psychology test. On top of that, he had a boat load of homework last night and practice runs every day after school for two to three hours. Though senior year has been relatively easy for Steve, there are times when things got a bit stressful. Today’s one of those days.

Steve finishes changing and brushing his teeth, running downstairs to get some breakfast before he has to go. Steve, if he wanted, could ask his family’s chef to make him breakfast every morning, but that seems like something Bucky would do and he never wants to be even half as dickish as Bucky. So, he grabs himself a bowl of cereal and sits down. His mother comes in five minutes later as he’s scrolling through his twitter and kisses him on the head.

“Good morning, love,” she says. Steve smiles up at her in response and returns to his food. Sara makes a humming noise, raising her eyebrows. “Not very vocal this morning. Long night?” She takes the brewed coffee from the machine and pours two cups, handing one to Steve along with some sugar and cream.

“Thanks,” he forces out, his voice weak. “Yeah, I had a lot of studying to do last night so I’m really wiped out. Feel pretty prepared, though.”

Sara smiles at her boy, pride evident in her face. “I’m sure you’ll do great, honey. Could I ask for a favor?”

“Yeah, sure, what is it?” Steve brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing the milk out and putting everything in the dishwasher before grabbing his coffee and standing next to his mom.

“Well, not really a favor for me, more of a favor for Winifred,” she says hesitantly. Steve narrows his eyes at her, suspicious of her next words. “It’s just,” she starts, “Bucky got into a car accident with his friends over the weekend. Not too bad, none of them are hurt, but he doesn’t have a way home from school today because his car’s totaled. We’re having dinner with his family tonight so could you take him with you back to our house, please?”

Steve immediately groaned and threw his head back. “Mom, it’s not like they’re poor, can’t they pay a driver to do that or something? I really don’t want to have to drive him home because he’s too busy doing god knows what to pay attention to the road for the third time.”

“First of all, a drunk driver hit them. Second of all, this is not up for debate. I don’t care if they can hire a driver, I told Winifred that you could drive him and that’s that.” She uses her ‘Mom-voice’ that lets Steve know she means business.

“ _Ugh_ , fine. But he’s going to have to sit through football practice,” he says in a last ditch effort to get himself out of this.

“Already told Winifred that!” his mother sings as she walks out of the kitchen, presumably to get ready for her own long day at work.

Steve looks up at the ceiling, hoping god will give him enough strength to sit in a car with Bucky fucking Barnes for 15 minutes without tearing his head off. He stands there for a few seconds before grabbing his keys and his backpack, heading out the door.

When he arrives at school, he’s greeted at the entrance by Peggy, Tony, Clint, and Jessica. Peggy’s the first to see him, waving him over with a smile. As he drudges up to his friends, Tony whistles.

“Wow, Rogers. You didn’t even take the time to brush your hair this morning. Long night?” He winks, wiggling his eyebrows incessantly up and down. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“My AP Psych textbook. She’s great, maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime.” Steve says with a deadpan expression. Tony shakes his head, with wide eyes.  
“No thank you! I’m not one for therapy.”

“Yes, we know, daddy issues and all that.” Jessica grumbles, but her eyes are playful. She put on a mocking tone, mimicking Tony's voice with a whiny,“‘help I’m rich and emotionally constipated.’” She pouts at Tony and he flicks her nose while she swats his hand away with a grimace.

“Jokes on you, that _barely_ covers my inner turmoil and the complexities of my psyche,” Tony says smugly, putting his sunglasses back on his face with a grin. Steve used to be uncomfortable with Tony’s willingness to joke about his dad and the clear personal issues he faces, but he’s grown to learn to accept that this is Tony’s way of dealing with it. In some unconventional and twisted way, this is his version of talking about it.

It’s then that Steve notices Bucky heading towards them, laughing at something Natasha says.

“Barnes!” He yells to get his attention. Bucky’s smile drops and he seems to slow his steps as to increase the amount of time it will take him to reach Steve.

“Oh well this should be interesting,” Peggy says excitedly with one raised eyebrow.

“I want her to choke me to death with her thighs,” Clint blurts out, entranced by Natasha and not at all focussed on whatever drama is going on between Steve and Bucky. Peggy smacks him on his his head, pulling him out of whatever fantasy he was stuck in.

“Don’t objectify her!” Peggy scolded, living up to her label of ‘renown feminist.’ She had not only worked to loosen the school’s dress code, as she said it was a clear demonstration of the sexualization of teenage girls, but she also began the Women’s Empowerment Club at school, meant to encourage feminism as well as spread awareness on Domestic violence in the United States. Why she and Steve didn’t work out is a mystery to him.

Clint scoffed at Peggy as if she had just insulted him.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve also had plenty of fantasies where we adopt 10 dogs together. She’s not an object to me,” he sighs dreamily, watching Natasha walk towards them, her arms crossed and looking ready to defend her best friend if needed. “She’s everything,” Clint finishes.

“Barton, if you’re so into her, why is it that you’ve never actually talked to her, like, ever?” Steve asks. Jessica points at him then gives a thumbs up in an unspoken agreement while Tony says, “seconded.”

“Today’s the day, I’m feeling it guys.” Clint cracks the bones in his knuckles and stands up. As Natasha and Bucky reach the group however, he walks straight past them, mumbling about how he needs to see a teacher before class. Typical.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks passively, literally looking at his nails like a cliche movie character.

“I’m taking you back to my house after school today because your family is coming over for dinner. You’ll have to wait until football practice is over. Oh, and congrats on crashing your third car!” Steve says each sentence as if he’s checking off a list of things he needs to say for this conversation to be over.

“It wasn’t my fault, fucker,” Bucky hisses at him, clenching his fists at his side as Natasha puts a soothing hand on his bicep.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” Steve smirks at him, stepping up from his previous position leaning on the wall to tower over Barnes in a threatening manner. After five seconds of glaring, Jessica groans and hits her head against the wall of the building.

“If you two are done aggressively eye fucking and insulting eachother, I need to take Steve to class. You know, the one we have a test in.” She says this with a patronizing and unconcerned tone, standing up to begin the walk to class.

“Thanks so much for the update,” Bucky says, his words full of sarcasm, while Steve is still recovering from what Jess said. Bucky walks away, Natasha right next to him.

“Wait up, Jess!” Steve runs to catch up to her. “I wasn’t eye fucking him. I’m not into guys--and it’s Barnes!”

“Steve, it’s a joke. You don’t need to go all ‘no-homo’ on me.” Jess rolls her eyes at him turning into the doorway of their classroom. “Good luck,” she whispers, taking her seat as the teacher begins to hand out their tests.

~

 

Steve can’t focus. When he started practice an hour ago, he noticed Bucky sitting on the bleachers doing his homework. He looked at the way Bucky was twiddling his pencil in between his cushiony red lips and how his brow furrowed in concentration while he tried to figure out the answer to whatever question he was reading. Sam hit him on the head, telling him to concentrate on practice while Steve felt the familiar tug when he was forced to tear his eyes away from his enemy.

That was all fine and dandy, and Steve finally got into the mindset he needed to work hard at the sport he loved. After about an hour, they got a quick water break. When Steve snuck another glance at Bucky, his fist tightened a little bit around his water bottle. Bucky was sitting extremely close to some senior guy that Steve knew was in his art class, though he didn’t know his name. Peter, maybe? It didn’t matter. But Bucky and him were pressed right up against eachother, Bucky laying a hand on the guy’s thigh as he laughed at something he said. Steve felt his jaw clenched tight with no reason, and he wondered why he was getting himself so angry over this. He told himself it was because this was a perfect example of Bucky’s disgusting sex addiction and his willingness to play any guy that came remotely close to him. But Steve wasn’t sure if that was really true, and he didn’t know what that meant.

Steve shook his head and put his bottle down, running back to the field and trying to concentrate on what his coach was saying. Now, with twenty minutes left in practice, he looks up and sees that neither Bucky nor the guy he was just sitting with are in the bleachers. Instead of thinking about what that implies, he throws himself into the scrimmage he and his team are playing, putting all of his frustrations into his throws. At the end of practice, his coach pulls him aside with a short, “Rogers!”

Steve jogs up to him, taking a sip from his water bottle before replying, “Yes, sir?”

“You did well today, kid. But you seemed a little angry, everything okay with you?” Coach Erskine has been like a second father to Steve. He’s tough and disciplinary, but he’s like that only because he wants to see his players do well. He’d been there to train Steve while he was in eighth grade, still pretty skinny and only just starting to get a little bit taller. Every time Steve felt like he wanted to give up and every time he said he couldn’t do it, Coach always reassured him.

“It’s only when you’re confident about what’s in here,” he said, pointing to the small boys chest, “that you can be confident about what’s out here.” He gestured to Steve’s whole body. He went on to explain, “you will never be successful until you _believe_ that you can be successful.”

Those words have stuck with Steve ever since; it’s the motto he lives by right now and the motto he hopes to live by for the rest of his life.

“Yeah, Coach. I’m just a little bit stressed about school stuff. Nothing to worry about.” He gives his coach a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Coach gives him a suspicious look, but says, “Alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow,” and that’s that.

Steve showers quickly and gathers up his things, leaving the locker room to find Bucky. He checks the bleachers again and finds nothing, so he hesitantly walks under them, covering his eyes when he recognizes the sound of choking and quiet moans. With his eyes covered and a familiar clench in his jaw he says bitterly, “Bucky, we’re going now so I’m going to need you to pause.”

He hears them both get themselves situated and Bucky walks over to him, slapping his hand away from his eyes. “You’re literally ridiculous. Covering your eyes? How old are you, ten?”

Bucky’s lips are swollen and wet, tears in his eyes and hair twisted up in weird angles. He looks like the very definition of sin and debauchery, and Steve has to clear his throat before he speaks.

“I don’t want to see whatever it was you were just doing. And really? Behind the bleachers? Could you be any more cliche?”  
Bucky scoffs, “It’s called a blowjob. At least I’m getting some, Rogers.” He gave Steve an innocent questioning look. “When was the last time anyone touched your dick? The stone age?”

He was right, it has been a while for Steve. He hadn’t done anything with anyone since he hooked up with a girl in his AP Bio class, Darcy, at a party three months ago. And even then, they hadn’t gotten much farther than a handjob and some light frottage. Bucky’s observation only makes him angrier, snarling at him with a final, “fuck off, Barnes.”

He starts walking to the car, Bucky giggling behind him in a way that makes Steve hate himself for thinking of it as cute. They climb into the vehicle, Steve throwing his stuff in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat.

For five minutes, there’s nothing but awkward silence. When Steve glances at Bucky at a stop light, he’s just looking out the window at the trees on the side of the road. The dim sunlight highlights his side profile; his delicate eyelashes are apparent from this angle and a shadow cast upon Bucky’s cheekbones makes them stand out even more so than usual. There’s something feminine about Bucky’s features, yet still they hold hints of ruggedness, exemplified in his chiseled jaw that inspires a desire in Steve to pick up a pencil and capture these details on a page of his sketch book. He is both beautiful and handsome, he is everything and more.

Suddenly, Bucky turns the radio on, putting on some dreadful pop songs and blasting the volume. Steve looks away quickly so that Bucky doesn’t see him staring, slowly accelerating as the light turns green.

“Did I say you could touch the radio?” Steve asks as he turns the volume down. Bucky turns it back up and shouts, “I didn’t ask for your permission!” over the sound of the loud music.

That’s how the rest of the drive goes, Bucky playing one terrible song after another and Steve trying to ignore his annoyance and just suck it up, as he wasn’t in the mood for another argument.

When they pull into the driveway, Steve shuts the car off and goes inside as quickly as possible, wanting to avoid any and all interaction with Bucky by hiding in his room. He’s stopped in his kitchen though when Bucky, out of nowhere, yells at him, “Listen, I know you think I’m disgusting because I’m gay but It’s my fucking life and I’m tired of you constantly giving me dirty looks because you’re a fragile homophobic straight guy.”

What?

Steve whips around and gives him the most confused look he can make. “What are you talking about? I don’t care that you’re gay, Bucky.”

It was Bucky’s turn to look confused. He walks closer to Steve, asking, “then why do you always get nastier than usual when I’m making out with a guy in front of you? I bring a boyfriend over and every single time you spend the whole night staring at me like I’m the grossest thing you’ve ever seen. And just now, with Peter. You were giving me that same look.”

“That’s not because you’re gay, Bucky. I just don’t like seeing you grope your boytoys in front of me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! It just annoys me, okay? Some people don’t want to see you practically fucking a guy while there are others around to see it.”

Bucky looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. The confusion on his face is gone, replaced by an understanding of something about Steve that Steve himself doesn’t even think he understands. There’s five seconds where they just stand there, looking at eachother.

Steve recognizes the tension between them, but it’s a strange kind of tension. This isn’t like when they normally fought. This is tension with a hint of anticipation, but for what, he doesn’t know. His eyes find Bucky’s, and just as he’s about to turn away and head upstairs to his room, confused by the whole situation, Bucky surges forward and crushes his mouth to Steve's.

Steve feels like he’s being ripped apart. Half of his mind is telling him to pull away, while the other half urges him to chase after the soft inviting mouth, to wrap his hands around the other boy’s hips and draw him nearer, to take what he wants. But he doesn’t know what he wants.

Another part of him, one that sounds a lot like his dad, tells him that _this isn’t it. You are not gay._ He pulls away after a quick two seconds, though they feel like a lifetime.

“What the _fuck_?” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bucky looks lost, and for a brief moment, a little bit hurt. “I’m sorry. I guess I interpreted that the wrong way.”

“Yeah, you did! I’m not fucking gay. Don’t pull that shit with me again.” He took three huge steps back, trying to put distance between himself and Bucky.

“I said I was sorry, you don’t have to be a dick about it. I get it, you’re not gay. It’s not like I’m into you or something, you’re not that great; I’m just horny because I didn’t get to finish with that other guy, thanks to you.” He says this with enough hatred that you would never guess that he had just tried to initiate a kiss with Steve, and it makes Steve’s chest clench, a slight but sharp pain. He tells himself he doesn’t care about Bucky’s words, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be around him right now, regardless of whatever family dinner his mother has planned. He would deal with the repercussions later.

“I’m going out,” he says, gathering his jacket and heading back towards the door. Bucky says nothing. Before he closes the door, he feels compelled to have the last word. “And for the record, even if I was gay, you’re the _last_ person I’d sleep with.”

Steve closes it then, heading towards his car while Bucky is left standing in the kitchen, clearing his throat with a bitter smile and moving to the porch to alleviate himself with a cigarette, forgotten in his hand after five minutes of staring at nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> barnesftrogers.tumblr.com
> 
> Also I know Jessica isn't in the MCU but I love her v v v much and I wanted her to be in this :)


End file.
